Chapter Eighty-One

Angel let her forehead fall to the steering wheel as the stolen car drifted to the side of the road and sputtered out its last offering before it ran out of gas. Well, at least she’d had the good luck to get off the highway first.

She was now on a remote back road in the forests of deepest, darkest Oregon. Remote meant there weren’t a lot of options for stealing another car. Remote meant nothing but trees for miles and miles.

She looked down at her ankle and frowned. It had swelled up to double its normal size from the sprain. Walking would be slow going.

Dawn was coming. She wasn’t sure if this was on the pros or cons list.

She stared into the dark trees. Her best bet would be to walk parallel to the road so she wouldn’t be seen by passing cars. Hell, if anyone else even used this road.

Walking in the woods with a sprained ankle nearly guaranteed it would only get worse. And more painful. As it was, it throbbed like the devil.

Hitchhiking was out of the question. Her lack of supplies and money were as good as wearing a T-shirt that said, “I’m a fugitive on the run!”

With a groan, she hobbled to a downed log near the car and rested her head in her hands. As dire as her situation was, she found herself worrying about Colton. Had he been arrested for helping her? Was he being watched? Would he be exposed in the news, so Viktor Kulakov would find him?

This was exactly where she hadn’t ever wanted to be. She couldn’t help Colton, and she couldn’t help herself. If she didn’t know it wouldn’t help, she might have broken down and cried.

As it was, she let out a frustrated, disgruntled sigh and stood. She’d come this far. She wasn’t giving up yet.

Until the cuffs were on her wrists—or a bear ate her—she still had a fighting chance.